


Talk You Through Your Scars

by hawkhome348



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Birthday Presents, Collars, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Empathy, Empathy Magic, Established Relationship, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff without Plot, HELP I CAN'T STOP THE TAG TRAIN, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other, POV Second Person, Panic Attacks, Pep talks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Reader Has Issues, Reader-Insert, Red empathizes, Romantic Fluff, Scars, Short One Shot, Talking, Underfell Sans (Undertale), also fluff AF, author's selfish indulgence, oh boy does he get it, pretty straightforward, red talks you through a panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28962042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkhome348/pseuds/hawkhome348
Summary: rated Teen for language. f-bombs and various other four-letter monikers live here. watch thine stepthis is an idea that came to me quite suddenly so i made the most of it :3 and Kamari333's been a huge help and inspiration with my main work, so. HAPPY BIRTHDAY KAM!!! XD... belatedly. their birthday wasactuallyfour days ago, but inspiration happens when it happens yanno?pluuuuuuus i am such a goddamn sap for hurt/comfort and especially for panic attack stuffs, so. XDthis is a reader-insert, kept 2nd person and quite background neutral on purpose, but it is heavily inspired by Burlesque with Red vs Dance!Sans here, so if that's what broughtcha here you can quite easily imagine it/you as Dance from later in the relationship/fic. but written such that anybody can fill the blank. >3enjoy the followingtotally not self-indulgent nope no sir no thirst for romantic moments with Fell skel at alllllll1.3k of Red walking you through an anxiety attack and getting you to breathe normally again and giving you some fluffy-as-hell validation delivered in his typical no-nonsense crass fashion <3
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader, Sans (Undertale)/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	Talk You Through Your Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kamari333](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamari333/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [Kamari333](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamari333/pseuds/Kamari333). Log in to view. 



The sudden sound of panting appears mid-exhale. He's just shortcut in, audibly anxious as he starts checking different rooms.

“-kitten? kitten, 'm home! where are ya? there-”

He pauses, and his voice fills with affectionate relief when he sees you and begins to approach you, arms outstretched.

“- _there_ y'are, c'mere, here -”

His words are cut off by your own distressed noises; you’re not “all there”, and it’s hard to pick out his shape from the visual shadows. He recognizes this; he knows by now what this looks like for you. He speaks deliberately soothingly, identifying himself for your sake.

“-hey, it's me, it's juuuuust me, it's just red. jus' yer boyfriend red. just me. yer datemate. yeah? – hey. eaaasy. eaaaaaaaasy. easy -”

His voice goes momentarily rough with the effort of, finally, successfully catching you up in his arms amidst your frightened squirming, so he can hold you close.

“- _gotcha_. there ya go. yer safe. yer safe now. i gotcha. i gotcha. shhh, shhhhhh.”

Red begins to calm you, murmuring quietly, his sharp-toothed mouth pressed harmlessly to the side of your head, one gold fang jarringly cold. At his peaceful tone, you stop fighting him.

“shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. hey. yer alllllright.”

A few more shushes, and he proceeds with the next stage of seeing you through this maelstrom:

“... hey, hey. let's take som' breaths, okay? okay. deep an' slow.”

He starts guiding you, verbal cues long practiced sloughing out at an even count, like a waltz, like slow-dancing.

“innn... ... out. ... in... ... out. ... in... ... and out. ... deep. ... slow. ... there ya go. keep goin' fer me? ... good job. goood job.”

He's since put a badly-chipped, bony hand on the back of your head and begun short, lazy-paced, but intentional caresses. He continues murmuring, a steady, anchoring presence, without missing a beat.

“keep doin' that. heres m' hand. y'feel that? on th' back a' yer head? ... good. in... ... out. ... thaaat's it. li'l pets. li'l ones. breathe with 'em. ... in... ... out.”

He’s still coaching you with his touch even as he reaffirms your time and place, cementing you in the present.

“... yer 't _our_ place. yer here with me. _safe_. yer not _there_ anymore... an' yer never gon'a be back there again. in... ... out. ... good job, kitten. keep goin'. jus' – breathe 'n time with my hand on yer head, an' yer back. y' c'n do it.”

With his encouragement, you follow his clear cues. He takes a few more breaths with you, soft and gentle, you taking in the scent of the fluff and worn leather of his favorite black coat. His voice regains its usual casual cadence when he notices your improvement, praising you warmly, quiet.

“... there. yer lots better 'lready. yeah, there's my good kitten. yeah. theere ya go. shhhhhhhhh.”

He chuckles half-sadly, half-relieved as you arrive fully to yourself again.

“... damn, th's one wuz pretty bad, huh? heh. hadja in its grip solid for a bit there.”

His damaged phalanges are winding their way near your collarbone, below your jaw, and you know exactly how he knew to come to your rescue, even though you were never lucid enough today to pick up your phone and dial anybody. His tone turns apologetic.

“id'uv come sooner but – took me damn near f'r _ever_ to get a minute away fr'm work...”

He stops with a choked-off sound as he feels, and sees, you descend shakingly into guilt.

“- aw, shit, sweetheart, no, no no, none'a that. none'a that now. yer _fine_ , it ain't yer fault. shhhhhh. easy. heh, firs' of all, y'know damn well 'm happy fer _any_ excuse t' step away from my job, heheh.”

In spite of your trembling you can't help but smile at his self-depreciating joke, and his voice mellows along with your reaction.

“yeah, theeere's that smile back. an' second of all – ya _know_ i'll always be there when ya need me, kitten!”

\- he reminds you insistently, though still soft.

“i'll always fuckin' get t' yer side when ya -”

His voice goes stern and hard as iron the moment you slip into guilt once more.

“- nuh. _uh_. not fer a _damn_ second. what's on yer neck, kitten.”

When you hesitate, his voice only grows more rugged, gruff, demanding.

“... fuckin' answer, pet. _what 'z on yer damn neck._ ”

You finally answer, not with words, but with a hand straying up to your neck, to the sturdy ring of high-quality padded leather placed there. The grin returns to his voice, if not his face quite yet.

“... tha'ss right. that there collar. an' _why'd_ i put that on ya?”

You protest at his persistence, but he cuts _you_ off this time.

“- yup, y'gonna question it, i'm gonna make ya say it. why'd i do it, kitten?”

… You tell him what he wants to hear.

“- tha'ss right, 'cuz i _wan'ed_ ta. yer real smart when yer mental bullshit's not gotcha caught up in its clutches, y'know that? heheh.”

... He lets out a happy, yet bittersweet sigh.

“... i _chose_ ta make ya mine, sweetheart. not 'cuz i felt like i _hadta_ , but b'cuz i _wan'ed_ ta take care uv' ya. _bumps_ , an' _scars_ , an' _all_.”

When you query him in your doubt, he makes an almost insulted noise.

“- _sure_ m'sure, kitten! i knew what i wuz signin' up for goin' in. an' yer worth ev'ry second 'v it. i promise. – yup, even if yer still havin' these panic attacks, an' by th' way, don' feel bad 'bout that neither.”

At your surprise at his already knowing, he half-smugly, half-resigned, informs you:

“yeah, i c'n tell. ya let me in on th' collar, didn'cha? ...”

With another sigh, his voice goes soft again, coaxing and soothing.

“… sweetheart, don' scold yerself fer 'still havin'' 'em. there's no one yardstick fer all this shit. 're's no 'should' 'r 'oughta'. y've seen all'a that crazy shit, right? all th' shit y' told me about? ya've earned the starsdamn _right_ t' yer scars. even if they ain't all visible like mine.”

Again, you doubt him in your mind; and again, without skipping a single beat, he interjects:

“- yup, th' attacks count. no way that shit's not gunna stick wi'ya. an' if that's what yer scars end up lookin' like, mental 'stead'a physical 'n shit, then ya gotta work with'at. show yerself a li'l more respect, huh? i keep tellin' ya.”

… Tears begin leaking from your eyes at your continued _guilt_ , the _shame_ and _inferiority_. He rushes to comfort you in response.

“- no, no no no, shhhhhhhhhhh, yer alright. yer okay. 's not wrong t' have these' 'r t' still have 'em. nobody's been helpin' ya take care 'v these scars 'ntil now, right? tha's whut i'm here for. i'll take care of ya. okay? c'mon, i've gotta couple more minutes. let's getcha som' water. maybe a snack.”

He’s still speaking lowly and gently, but now that you’re mostly calm, he’s shifted into action mode as he keeps talking.

“-li'l bit of one'a my fav'rites tends t'cheer me up a li'l. c'n be somethin' sweet if ya want. yeah?”

Still feeling weak, you tell him what you’d like, your favorite small treat that you always keep stocked in the home for times like these.

“… yeah. alright, i'll be right back with it. hang tight. an' then 'm gonna hold _you_ good 'n tight 'ntil i hafta go. alright?”

He plants a toothy kiss on the top of your head, the shrill little _smeck_ sound seeming all too sweet to have come from such a tough-looking monster. When you become upset at his ending his snuggle with you, he chuckles.

“heh, dooon' worry kitten, thu'll be _lots_ more where that came from when i'm back fer th' night. promise.”

He gets up, his tone mellow and adoring again.

“now, sit tight fer me, 'kay? be right back. – love ya, sweetheart.”

**Author's Note:**

> <3 <3 <3
> 
> [minor edit: I noticed some overused word choices so I just ran back through real quick with a thesaurus :P]


End file.
